Some people are born fighters, and Amy Plotner is one of them.  Hers is a story of determination, courage, hope, and most importantly, survival.  She had been told that she should not be here because the battle she faces has tragically taken the lives of many others, but she is still here, still surviving. 

In June 1989, Plotner moved to Georgia from Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Soon afterward she began experiencing excruciating headaches.  During spring and fall, she would get sinus infections and headaches that she just attributed to allergies.  Then, in the fall of 1993, the headaches intensified, pounding and becoming more constant.  That November, she finally saw a doctor who told her he did not think it was allergies. He gave her medication, though, and directed her to come back if her condition did not improve.  This was on a Friday.  On Sunday, she had a seizure.  After a CAT scan, she learned the true cause of her headaches – a brain tumor.  She was 33.

At Emory University Hospital, Plotner was diagnosed with a primary malignant brain tumor commonly known as glioblastoma multiforme (GBM) and considered as one of the most difficult and aggressive brain tumors to treat. Developing from astrocytes, also referred to as the glial cells of the brain, GBM tumors grow rapidly and their effects can be devastating.  Seizures, loss of vision and hearing, problems with memory and thought, difficulty speaking and reading, and trouble with balance, coordination and movement are just some of the symptoms caused by GBM as well as other types of brain tumors.  The American Brain Tumor Association calculates approximately 5 out of every 100,000 Americans will be diagnosed each year with GBM, and the American Cancer Society estimates that people diagnosed with it could die approximately within 12 months.

Told that she would need brain surgery immediately, Plotner, then a divorced, single parent, says she remembers feeling: “Do what you’ve got to do. I need to get home and raise my son, who was seven at the time.”  She felt no fear of what she was about to go through.  She says, “When you don’t know what you’re in for, you don’t know. I wasn’t really concerned.  I felt that the doctors knew what they were doing, so I wanted them to go ahead and do it.  I said, ‘Let’s just get it done; take it out.’”  “I wasn’t angry,” she adds, “I was more like me? I felt shock, not a fearful or scary shock, but more of surprise.”

Plotner’s main problem was how she should tell her young son Nicholas about her diagnosis.  Conferring with her parents, nurse and physician, she decided it would be best that he did not know the severity of her condition.  She felt it was important to her to keep her son in a positive mindset so that he would not worry about her.  Before her surgery, she simply told him, “‘Mommy’s got an egg-shaped thing in her head, and the doctors want to take it out.’”  For other parents facing this same dilemma, she advises that it is best to keep it simple and on a child’s level.

Post-surgery, Plotner’s parents, son, and close friends helped her cope. Unable to drive, she was brought to the hospital for her radiation and chemotherapy treatments by her parents who had moved in with her. She says that she felt blessed to have her family be there for her. As time went on, things got easier for her, although she admits to having several moments where she felt hopeless.  One of these moments brought out the fighter in her. 

Shortly after her diagnosis, Plotner recalls an incident when a person said to her: “I understand that you have GBM.  I can’t believe you’re still here, but at least, you’ll have a good 2-3 years left [to live].”  Plotner got angry, and her hopelessness was immediately replaced with determination.  “Look, I plan on being here longer than 2-3 years,” she remembers responding pointedly, “I have a seven year old son that I’m going to raise!”  Plotner says that although she cried afterward, she learned a valuable lesson that day. “I learned to concentrate on me and what I was doing and to not listen to the bad things,” she says.  “There are good stories out there.”

Twelve years after her initial diagnosis, Plotner is inarguably one of them.  She can now drive again and has been able to return to work full-time as a flight attendant for a major airline.  Also, other than feeling ill during her early chemo treatments, she has not suffered any impairment due to the GBM tumor, for which she says is grateful.  “I’ve just been so lucky,” she observes, noting that there were a number of workers in her industry who died last year of brain tumors.

At Emory Winship Cancer Institute, she feels that she has a wonderful team helping her, which includes medical oncologist Surusak Phuphanich, MD; surgeon Jeffrey Olson, MD; radiation oncologist Ian Crocker, MD; and nurse practitioner Karen Shires, RN. Commenting on Winship’s multidisciplinary approach to cancer treatment, Plotner says, “Having all those doctors and researchers in one place talking, having them all confer as a group to decide what’s best for their patients, is wonderful.  It’s so important that they’re all together, and I think it contributed to my treatment.” After long ago successfully reaching the five-year mark, today Plotner just takes Dilantin, an anti-seizure medication, and has a yearly MRI.

In April 2003, Plotner participated in the National Brain Tumor Foundation’s Angel Adventure, a fund-raising walk in Atlanta that was emceed by Dr. Sanjay K. Gupta, an assistant professor of Neurosurgery at Emory University’s School of Medicine and a well-known CNN correspondent.  She is hopeful that there will soon be more similar events in the metro Atlanta area because many people remain largely unaware of the prevalence of brain tumors.  A member of the Brain Tumor Support Group at Emory, she does her part in educating others by giving interviews about her experience.

At 47, Amy Plotner is a survivor, one who is making plans.  This year she will see her son graduate high school and start his first year of college in the fall, and in October, she will be getting married.  The future looks bright for her, but what truly matters to her and her family is today, because today, against all odds, she’s still here.

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